


Grey Magic

by Fuchsgeist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, BDSM, Bottom Harry Potter, Dark Harry, Depression, Dissociation, Draco Malfoy Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Emotionally Repressed, F/F, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, M/M, Oral Sex, Past Rape/Non-con, Slow Burn, Top Draco Malfoy, Victim Blaming
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2020-08-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:09:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 15
Words: 17,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21618139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fuchsgeist/pseuds/Fuchsgeist
Summary: Draco wants to vanish into the pleasent fog in his mind, but his infuriating ex-nemesis makes it hard to feel nothing at all.And who is Harry Potter, anyways?Maybe Draco is not the one who needs saving after all.And what happened to Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger?Note: this is not an abandoned fic. I am just not in the right mood to update this one regularly. I'm updating my other, less pornographic fic more frequently.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ginny Weasley
Comments: 17
Kudos: 58





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic that deals with sexual trauma. In this AU, Harry and Draco were physically and emotionally abused by family members. There's a lot of unhealthy coping mechanisms in this story.  
> Even the romance in this will be problematic.
> 
> I am not a native speaker and have no beta.

Darkness. And in the shadows, his mistakes, ready to scream at him as soon as he closed his eyes.  
Draco Malfoy hadn't slept peacefully since he was fifteen and Bellatrix Lestrange had asked him if he wanted to be a man or a "widdle bwaby" in that obnoxious, high pitched voice of hers.  
Draco had thought that it was better to get it over with. She had petrified him after pulling his trousers off his nervous erection. Now every time sleep took over, Draco was petrified again. And the horrors of his past mixed into new nightmares. All the violence he had seen, all the pain. And that was probably what happened to all dark wizards. It was the price you paid for being what you are. The darkness inside him, it had been there before Bella, even before his mother had trained him with stinging hexes not to slouch when he was five and punished the house elves for Draco's mistakes in etiquette. Wrong spoon? Go and iron your hand, elf.  
Narcissa was never the mad, cackling one. She was the one who made sure her son always had the best of the best, the most expensive brooms and the most expensive taste, and Narcissa loved him the Black way. Family first, blood is thicker than water. And the centuries of twisted minds in the Back family culminated into a kind of love that either made you into a perfectly trained puppet or bruised and bit and raped teenage boys. Though Draco was still not sure it qualified as rape, because aunt Bella hadn't made him have an erection. And she had told him she was doing him a favour. In her own twisted mind she probably was, since she didn't crucio him or anything of that sorts. She just gently finished herself on top of him and un-froze him so that he would finish. Which he did. And that was ultimate proof that part of him must have wanted it in the first place. In his sleep, Bella was still riding him whenever he had an erection, kissing away his silent tears.  
When he had done it with Pansy, he had stayed on top. She didn't mind, she liked it, even. He had been rough and brutal about it, and he had wanted her to say no and tell him that he was a weird, perverted bastard, but she didn't. She had just moaned into his shoulder.  
Draco wasn't angry at the world anymore, like he had been as a teenager. He had just accepted that he was dark and that sometimes he was petrified and couldn't move, even when he wasn't sleeping.  
He worked at Borgin and Burke's since their family account was frozen, dealing with technicaly legal goods over and obviously forbidden things under the table. Draco was good at it. Better than Burke. 

Today, Circe's apples would arrive, golden orbs that would make a room break out into quarrels.  
Malfoy shaved and showered, put on his tacky black robes and put his long hair into a leather ribbon.  
His reflection looked at him with red-rimmed eyes.  
"You've looked better, dear", it reminded him unnecessarily. He took a bit of Bubbler's Best Blemish Remover and covered his face in it. Afterwards he looked like a very convincing doll. Almost human.  
He apparated to work. He opened up the shop in the morning and closed it in the evening, because he had no social life at the ripe old age of twenty-three.  
Belial Nott, Theodor's elder brother, had been a somewhat good acquaintance over the last two years and they occasionally drank some firewhiskey together. They had met when Belial had bought some spying fancy noodles from him, a thing that was usually added to gift baskets. It worked as long as they weren't cooked and eaten, which was usually infinitely. Because they were technically not a spying device but a perfectly edible food, they weren't outlawed by the ministry. 

Belial was not the nicest person. He wasn't even someone who Draco would've tried to spend time with. He just was very persistent. And for some reason, he had picked Draco Malfoy as his drinking mate.

Draco sweeped the floor and cleaned the counters with a quick scourgefy, then he opened the shop. It looked decidedly less seedy since he worked here.  
Just because you were selling semi-dark objects, you didn't have to have a dirty and badly lit interior.

When Draco was done sweeping, there was the noise of apparating. Five aurors stood in the shop, wands raised.  
Draco concealed his panic with manners.  
"Good morning, gentlemen. Can I offer you some tea?", he asked.  
"This is a raid", the head auror snarled.  
"Who would've thought", Draco replied dryly.  
One of the aurors didn't have his wand out and was fiddling with his thumbs instead. Draco looked into his face and froze. It was Potter, unmistakably, still the same face with his messy hair and those glasses that never seemed to stay put. Draco felt something he hadn't felt in years. Hot, juvenile anger bubbled up inside him. So there was Potter, holier-than-thou St. Fucking Potter, and raided his place? Really? He crossed his arms and was close to snarling something along the lines of searching his arse for dark magic, but then remembered that it wasn't a good idea to anger the people who might close this place down if he had forgotten even a single apple outside of the hidden department that only activated if you said the right words.  
And then they started raiding and nothing looked tidy anymore. They just tore everything out and threw it on the ground in a big pile. Anything that looked mildly suspicious went into a big bag. Potter was always a bit more careful and looked at Draco apologetically. But he was still doing it, taking apart the structure and order and adding to the pile of things on the floor. Draco just sat down and let sweet numbness wash through him, until he was back to the familiar fog that made everything a bit more distant, a bit less real.  
After they were done trashing the place, they left again. But Potter didn't. Why? Why didn't he leave? He just stood there, pretending to clean his glasses.  
"I'm sorry, Malfoy."  
Sorry. So, Harry Potter was fucking sorry. And didn't just sod off like everyone else did, but stayed here and graced him with his pity.  
"Well clean up then, you incredibly arrogant tosser!", Draco screeched. Oh no. Where had that emotion come from? What had happened to the pleasent numbness? Why were there so many feelings, why did it burn, why did it hurt? Draco felt his eyes getting hot. What was that? He wasn't going to cry, was he? He hadn't cried in years. Not since his mother had died.  
Potter looked at his face with blank panic.  
"Ok. Ok. I will clean up. No problem."

And then he started cleaning like a sodding muggle, it was ridiculous, he started lifting things and tried to put them back into the shelves. Draco just stood there for at least ten minutes, while Harry tried to manually move a stone chair that was made from volcanic minerals to absorb wild magic.  
"You're a wizard, remember?", Draco told him incredulously.  
He blushed. Draco took out his wand and levitated the chair to it's corner.  
Then they tidied up together in silence.  
"Hey Malfoy, listen. Let's get a drink sometime", Harry said.  
Draco didn't know what to say or think.  
What was the appropriate reaction to that?  
"Why?", Draco asked.  
"For old time's sake."  
"Do you mean when we were bashing each other's heads in at Hogwarts or when I was a death eater? Because, I'm not sure I want to reminisce."  
Harry just shrugged.  
"Yeah well. Bad idea probably. But if you change your mind, I'll be at the Hog's Head at nine pm."  
Draco didn't respond.  
He knew how to reject an invitation politely, he knew a dozen ways to do it, but somehow his mind went blank.  
"I'll see if I can make it", his mouth said without help from his mind, that still worked very slowly. 

"You won't be in trouble. Your boss, maybe. But not you."  
Draco nodded. Though he was pretty sure that a lot of people at the ministry would gladly pin something on a former death eater with no friends or influence. And he was easy prey, had always been, even though he had thought of himself as the big bad wolf when he was younger.  
"Why are you nice to me?", said his mouth.  
"Why wouldn't I?", Potter replied with a crooked smile.  
"Because I used to be your arch enemy at school?"  
"I'm a grown up now."  
"Well I'm not. I mean. Yes I am adult but I'm not over you", Draco said in this weird voice that belonged to his autopilot. And what about that awful phrasing?  
"Uh. That's flattering, Malfoy", Potter replied and raised his eyebrows. Oh no. What was happening? Was he trying to fucking flirt? With...with him?  
Draco blinked.  
"I didn't mean it like that", he managed to say.  
Harry smirked, put a little banshee figurine on the shelf and rubbed his hand on his trousers.  
"All done. See you tomorrow", he said and rudely apparated without waiting for Draco to reply.  
Draco still stood there without moving, staring at the spot where Potter had been.


	2. Chapter 2

It hadn't been hard to make the investigation disappear. Not for an auror, not for The Boy Who Lived.  
Petunia, Vernon and Dudley were in different facilities but they had all lost the ability to do anything but very basic tasks.  
He had started with Dudley. The favourite, the one Petunia had doted on. He made them watch, silenced and tied down by spells. And then he had crucioed him with the wand that he had nicked from the last raid.  
He had watched Dudley scream and it hadn't felt as good as it should have, because Dudley had also been a victim somehow. But he had still helped his parents beat him and imprison him and hadn't helped him when he was reduced to a broken, sobbing puddle of blood and broken bones on the floor.  
His mind was the first to break. He had collapsed so easily, he was so weak.  
Petunia and Vernon had screamed at each other in agony. Like Harry had screamed the first few times that Vernon had forced himself on him. And Petunia had to watch this time, couldn't pretend to not hear, couldn't look away and do nothing.  
They had broken him and now he broke them. But the feeling of relief didn't come. He just felt empty. The nightmares didn't stop, either. They were just filled with silent screams now on top of everything else. It was soothing to be as bad as they had always painted him, though. When he was a kid, he had tried to be good. But the problem was that being good was never good enough. The thing with being the bad guy was that Harry knew that he'd be good at it. The revenge fantasies that had always popped up at random, the cruel streak that Dumbledore and everyone else had explained away with Voldemort's Evil Horcrux, well it hadn't gone away after the soul-piece had died. It was burried deep inside him.

Harry had become an Auror because he didn't know what else to do, once Voldemort was gone. He knew he should've felt relief, but all he had felt was exhaustion. When Ginny left him, he had nodded and told her that he understood.And she had cried and swore to stay his friend, no matter what. "Figures", she had said when Harry came out as gay.   
Hermione had given him a lop-sided grin and a hug. "Good, Harry. I'm glad you know that about yourself now."  
He missed her sometimes. But the problem with being a murderer was that you couldn't tell anyone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry about how I am updating this, I am having technical difficulties. I'm trying to work on it and hope that I will manage to post whole chapters from now on, not weird edits that stop mid-sentence.

It was Belial's fault, really. He had wanted to go out tonight, Draco had merely suggested the Hog's Head. As far as pubs went, they had the best Firewhiskey. And that they went there at nine was pure coincidence.  
Of course, Potter was already there, sipping on a drink at the bar on his own. And it would've been rude to just leave him there all by his lonesome.  
Potter saw him and waved. "Come on, Belial. Let's greet Potter."  
"You know Harry Fucking Potter? I, of course you do, he was in your year at Hogwarts, right? I think Theo told me something about the two of you on, don't remember what, though", Belial answered.  
"Hey Malfoy, glad you could come."  
"I didn't know you were meeting someone here. Am I crashing a date or something? You could've just told me you know", he said and raised his brows.  
"No, we just met today when Potter was vandalizing the shop", Draco replied hastily. "This isn't a date."  
"It's not?", Potter asked, smiling at him. Draco's heart skipped a beat. Potter was joking, of course. He was messing with him, laughing about his flushed cheeks and flustered fidgeting.  
"Uh, Belial Nott, Harry Potter. Potter, Nott"  
"Yes, I am Nott, Potter."  
"Of course you're not Potter. I am Potter, you're Nott, or are you not Nott?"  
"I am not not Nott."  
"Of course not."  
Draco wanted to scream. He looked at Harry, ready to tell him sod off, but instead he froze when their eyes met. It somehow felt way to private, it hurt.  
Belial looked at the two of them and smirked. "I think I forgot to water my plant. I have to go home now. Enjoy your date."  
"It's not a date. I'm not into blokes. Why does everyone think that?", Draco said absentmindedly. Harry looked away. "Oh", he said with something in his voice that sounded an awful lot like disappointment, which made no sense at all.  
"Yeah, yeah. Straight as an arrow, that one", Belial said and chuckled.  
"See you around Nott", Nott said to Potter.  
"See you around, Potter", Potter replied.  
"You're a really nice otter", Nott said and winked at Potter before apparating away.  
"What was that about?", Draco asked.  
"Oh, we were just taking the piss, but you wouldn't know about that, Mr. Serious Straight Man."  
"I don't know why I said that, I don't even know if it's true", he murmured. Now why had he said that? What was it about Potter that made him blurt out any unfinished thoughts that came to his mind whenever he was there? It was a disgrace.  
"Have you tried it with a bloke?" Potter said and had the audacity to look him directly in the eyes while doing so.  
"No. I haven't tried much at all, I was busy working."  
"Well, I bet you had to beat Nott off with a stick."  
"Nott isn't gay, come on", Draco huffed. Harry just looked at him incredulously.  
"That man is as gay as they come, Malfoy."  
"No, he's not. He's all big and muscular and such."  
"He literally wore a rainbow bracelet", Potter remarked.  
"What does that have to do with anything?"  
"I give up, Malfoy. "  
"Of course. You have to give up because you're wrong."  
Now, why did he argue so hard about that? It was none of his business anyway and Nott had never introduced any girlfriends to him, so what Potter said might be true. Harry had finished his drink and determinedly tried to drink the ice cubes now. He took one into his mouth and crushed it with his teeth. It sounded awful. Draco stared at his pink lips.  
"Why are you doing that, Potter? It is very distracting."  
"What am I distracting you from?"  
"It's just generally distracting me."  
Potter took an other ice cube into his mouth and started sucking on it. Draco uneasily shifted on his chair. He felt his cock getting hard and was very confused by that  
"So, I am distracting."  
"That's not what I meant."  
"What did you mean, then?"  
"That I can't stop watching your mouth and stop doing that indecent thing with your tongue, Potter."  
Potter swallowed the rest of the ice cube and grinned. It was somehow even worse than the chewing. It was crude and a weird type of humour that Draco just didn't quite get. Potter ordered an other drink.

Draco sat still and tried to think of something to say. He looked at Harry and his heart was beating in his throat, he could taste the intensity in his mouth, coppery adrenalin.  
"Malfoy. Just to make myself clear. I came here because I wanted to date you. I asked you out because I want to shag you senseless and if you think that's too forward, please tell me so", Potter said confidently.  
Draco blinked.  
"No."  
"I'm sorry, man. I misunderstood."  
"No, I mean: that's not too forward."  
"Come to my place, then."  
"Well, that is a bit forward."  
"How can I woo you then, my fair Prince?"  
"Don't be ridiculous, Potter."  
"We could talk about my ridiculousness at my place, Malfoy."  
"Fine, but you'll have to apparate me there." Potter grinned and took Draco's hand. It felt very unreal. The whole day had been a constant stream of absurdity and so it made sense to go home with Potter. It was the next logical step, even. And Potter was attractive, there was no doubt about that. Draco had never really considered it much, but he had been obsessed with his (disgusting) hair and his (stupid, smug) smile throughout his teenage years. Now that the hate for his flaws was mere annoyance, the rest of the emotions in the mix that had looked only like anger and contempt resurfaced and it looked as if he had had been nursing a gargantuan crush since basically first year at Hogwarts. Harry Potter's flat was fancy and impersonal, like something out of an owl-mail-catalogue. But focussing on Potter's furniture was hard when the hand holding his was still there and, oh Merlin, what was Potter's other hand doing on his hip, how did it get there?


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter contains porn and some mixed feelings. If you wondered about why I'd put slow-burn on this, it's because the relationship part of this is still far, far away.

Potter's hands on him. He stopped trying to grasp the concept of it. He closed his eyes. Potter was standing so close that Draco could feel his body heat radiating off him. The other man pulled him closer by the hip. Draco touched Potter's back and rubbed up and down. It felt firm under the fabric of his robe. Draco opened his eyes again. And Potter's face was so, so close.  
"I've wanted to do this since fifth grade", Potter murmured and then he touched Draco's lips with his. Draco had never felt a beard while kissing, but quite liked the roughness of it. Potter was rough with him, nipping at his lips and grabbing his hair. And then he felt his tongue and tasted firewhiskey. Draco leaned into him, pushing his tongue into Potter's mouth and burrying his hands in the mop of tousled hair. He felt Potter's erection pressing against him. They were nearly the same highth and their cocks were frotting against each other. Draco grabbed Potter's bum. It was softer than he would've thought, a bit bouncy even.  
Potter moaned lightly and took off his glasses. Then he took off his robes. Draco helped him and started undressing himself hastily. Potter was pale under his clothes, but there was hair on his abdomen, a trail to his cock, that was slightly shorter but thicker than Draco's own.  
"You're a bit blurry, come closer", Potter said with a hungry look on his face. Draco did.  
"Yes, that's better. I want to look at all of you, though." Potter investigated Draco's face. Then his hands brushed against his chest and Harry bend his knees.  
"Oh, this is a very bony clavicula. And this is a nice, pale chest. And I think I see a pink nipple. I will taste it now", Potter whispered against Draco's skin. Then he started to swirl his tongue around a nipple, which left Draco temporarily breathless. He ran his hand through Potter's hair again, moaning as the man lightly bit his sensitive flesh. When he couldn't take the teasing anymore, he pushed his head down lower.  
"I wonder what your cock tastes like, Malfoy", Potter said and looked up at him unfocused.  
Then he grabbed his shaft and swirled his tongue around the tip. Draco moaned. Pansy had given him some hurried blow jobs at Hogwarts, but it had felt nothing like this. His heart was beating in his throat, and everything Potter did felt so intense that it bordered on pain. He took his whole lenght inside, relaxing his throat, but still choked a bit. Then he stopped sucking him. Draco was a bit disappointed. "Do you want to bugger me, Malfoy?", Potter asked and his words went straight into him, hot, burning emotions flaring up. Draco could do nothing but nod silently. Potter wordlessly, wandlessly, summoned lube. Draco had never managed to do that, but of course Potter could. Then Potter sat down on the sofa and rubbed lube on his cock. He spread his arse cheeks and rubbed the lube on his hole, moaning lightly. It looked graceful, somehow. Leave it to Potter to look elegant while spreading his arse open for Draco. And, sweet Circe, was he fingering himself? Of course he was, his digits sliding in and out, lube shining on them. Draco pulled his own cock a bit. "Are you coming over here, or..?" Potter moaned, two fingers still scissoring inside him. Draco came over and took Potter's wet hand away from his bum. Then he placed his cock on his stretched hole and slid in easily. It felt great and fucking Potter into a sofa was exhilarating, but it was somehow less intimate then the eye contact and the kissing. Potter moaned and came all over Draco after he had repeatedly hit his prostate. When Potter clenched his buttocks around him, Draco came, too. Through the satisfaction, the climax had somehow felt anticlimactic to Draco. Potter scourgified them both. Then he cuddled up and rested his head on Draco's lap. "Should I leave soon?", Draco asked awkwardly. "Only if you want. You can sleep here, if you like." Draco really wanted to stay.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More porn, but also talk of child sexual abuse, nightmares, alcoholic parents, more internalized victim-blaming and weird coping.

Draco hadn't slept in the same bed with an other person, ever. Even as a baby he had slept in a crib. At Hogwarts, his bed had had silencing charms on it, so that he wouldn't wake the other boys with his screams at night. And now, he was lying in Potter's bed, next to someone who he hadn't really known two days ago. Draco stared at the ceiling. Potter's arm was still wrapped around Draco's waist and it was heavy, now that he was sleeping. But Draco didn't dare to move and wasn't even sure if he wanted to. It smelled strange, foreign, not like the lavender soap that he used for his sheets, a bit like pines. The lingering smell of firewhiskey was still there, too. Draco didn't like it, it reminded him of his father when he was most broken.  
"Remember to never lose, son. But if you do, never lose publicly. Women won't respect you if you lose. Women won't love you", he had slurred at him, and the sour smell of firewhiskey had turned Draco's stomach.  
Potter moved next to him, his brows furrowed. Then he spasmed and screamed, a weird, high-pitched scream.  
"Potter? Potter. Wake up. You're home, you're safe", Draco said and shook Potter's shoulder. There were tears on his face. It was exactly what Draco woke up to every night, but it was scary to see it on someone else. Potter woke up and looked around, disoriented.  
"Malfoy. I'm sorry."  
"Don't worry, Potter. We all have nightmares from the war. Me, too."  
"Yes, probably. It's funny though..."  
"What?"  
"Oh nothing. You don't want to hear this."  
"Try me."  
"It's funny how it's not just the war. How everything cruel and bad just merges into one giant monster of pain."  
"Yeah. I think what aunt Bella did to me as a teenager haunts me more than the war", Draco mumbled.  
"Oh, I rember. That sadistic bitch was your aunt. What was that like?"  
"Exactly what you would imagine it to be like. She was raving mad."  
"Did she...you know. Hurt you a lot?"  
"No, she never tortured me or anything."  
"Shit. The other thing, then."  
"Yes. She was my first. And she petrified me."  
"My uncle didn't. But I couldn't move anyway, so it wasn't really necessary."  
"Your uncle? Wasn't he a muggle?"  
"Muggles can be rapists too, you know?"  
Draco thought about it. For the first time. Of course muggles raped and killed and robbed each other, just like wizards did. Somehow they had always seemed too weak to do it. The muggles Draco had seen at the gatherings were mostly just screaming and begging for their lifes.  
"Bella didn't rape me. Not really. I. You know. Orgasmed."  
"That makes it worse though, doesn't It? I sometimes got hard when Vernon fucked me. Even though it hurt like hell and I bled from my bum for days."  
"Damn, Potter. That's grim."  
Potter shrugged.  
"He's dead now."  
Draco didn't know how to react to that. No part of it made sense. They were casually talking about this, much like he heard talk others about the war. And the saviour, the hero, had lived a nightmare similar to Draco in his youth, apparently. But it sounded worse. Aunt Bella hadn't been around much, and Potter had been raised by his uncle.  
"How can you stand it? Me buggering you?"  
"I genuinely like it up the arse. I even like it rough, as long as I chose to do it."  
"I can't stand it when I'm not in control. I didn't let Pansy ride me, ever."  
"How about other girls?"  
"There were no other girls."  
"Are you telling me I'm the second person you fucked?"  
"Yes. How many people have you fucked, Potter?"  
"I honestly don't know."  
"How can you not know that?"  
"Well let's just say a lot. I like hook-ups."  
"Wow. Do you use protection?" "I cast protective spells on both of us before we even got here, Malfoy. I'm surprised you didn't." "I really should have." "Well I guess you're not used to this type of thing." "Shit. Is this a one-night-stand?"  
"Do you want it to be?"  
"No. I want to do it again."  
"Fine by me. But I'm not a relationship-type-of-guy."  
"Good."  
"I will go back to sleep now. Good night, Malfoy."  
"Night, Potter."

Potter fell asleep immediately. And miraculously, Draco did too after a while. He dreamed of nothing.

When he woke up in the morning, Potter was gone and he felt well rested and eerily calm, as if he didn't just done something absolutely terrifying. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt calm instead of numb. Potter came into the room, a towel wrapped around him.  
"Have you seen my glasses, Malfoy? I just ran into a door."  
"Wait, I'll get them. You took them off in the living room."  
"I think I'll have to find a permanent, magical solution for that problem sooner or later."  
"Will you stop wearing glasses, then?"  
"That's the point."  
"Oh, that's a shame."  
"Are you telling me you like my glasses?"  
"I guess."  
"Kinky."  
Draco shrugged. Then he fetched Potter's glasses. They had left quite a mess in the living room. It looked even less personal in the light of day. Draco returned to the bed room, only to see that Potter hadn't put on clothes and was lying in the bed naked, hugging a pillow, little droplets of water on his bare arse and back. Draco felt himself getting hard again.  
"Your, uh, glasses, Potter."  
"Would you put them on for me?"  
"Sure."  
Potter sat on his knees and waited. Draco came closer, stroked the damp hair out of his face and put the glasses on him. He lunged toward and pinned Potter to the bed, kissing him. Potter laughed, out of breath, and tried to wrestle out of Draco's hold.  
"No, you don't", Draco said and snogged him again. He half-heartedly wiggled a bit under him, but it was less trying to get free and more trying to rub his cock on Draco's. Then it was biting and frotting and laughing and wrestling with Draco always on top, and more frotting. Potter took their cocks into his hand and rubbed them and Draco came on his fingers. He tried giving head for the first time and was quite proud that it worked. When they were done, Potter got up and made coffee for them. It was all a bit too good to be true.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry behaves like an arsehole and Draco has a major meltdown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Contains a description of a dissociative episode.

The days went by, and there was nothing. No visits to the shop, no floo calls, no owls. And Draco didn't know how to approach Potter. Should he just call, like the needy little sucker he was? Should he wait it out and play dead until Potter decided to contact him? Draco threw himself into work. And while he tried to not think about Potter, it was like a constant nagging in his mind. And it was absolutely insane. "What would Potter think about my criminal activity?" That was a thought that made sense. "What would Potter think about the way I shelf these tweezers?" Not so much. But it was like having a melody stuck in your head, on repeat, only knowing one particular part of it, and desperate to listen to the rest of the song. Just to get it out if your system, of course. Draco tried organizing his books, he even wrote some letters he had procrastinated writing for a very long time. Strictly from.a productivity viewpoint, shagging Potter had been a very good idea. But the longer Draco waited, the more it became obvious: he had to make the next move. It had been a week now, so that did not count as desperate if you didn't know it had been a whole week of pining after him and mental recaps of the one night they had spent together. Draco wrote about eight "casual" notes.  
"Hey Potter, how are you doing? Fancy getting a drink Saturday night?, Draco" Or "Hello, Potter, would you like to go out for a drink Saturday evening? Malfoy" He wrote and rewrote until his owl started to hoot impatiently and tapped it's talons on the window. He gave up and picked one letter at random.  
Just an hour later, his owl came back with a note.  
"Hi Malfoy. Let's skip the drink and go to mine, yeah? And how about tonight, I really want to see your pointy face again. I'll pick you up after work if you don't protest immediately."  
Draco danced a bit. But it wasn't because he was crushing on Potter, Draco told himself, no, it was just nice to...finally not having to think about when they'd meet. Or something. But this obnoxious smile on his face just wouldn't go away. It was stuck there and helped him sell absolutely worthless and useless rubbish to people. And when it was nearly half eight, Potter came in. Draco tried to act casually, which, well, wasn't his strong suit. Potter came over to the counter and hugged him. It was glorious and absolutely ridiculous. He didn't usually hug anyone except his mom, and his mom was dead. But, well. Hugging Potter was nice. And he was absolutely not getting anything "out of his system", if anything, the crush intensified. Potter helped him close the store and started snogging him in the store room. They apparated to his bed mid-snog. And then it was hours and hours of fantastic sex again. And falling asleep next to each other. And eating breakfast in bed.  
But still, this was supposed to be non-commital. And Draco was in danger of losing his head and getting his heart crushed into a million peaces. If Potter knew that he occupied his mind, every single day, that he was his first thought in the morning and his last in the evening, he would surely drop him like a hot potato. And everything would go back to grey fog again.  
Probably it was just Draco being practically a virgin. Falling for someone because the orgasms felt like love. Thinking that sticking your penis into someone's arse was intimacy because it was so bloody intimate.  
And Draco wanted it to be mutual so badly, but knew in his heart that it wasn't. Potter was having fun. And Draco was having an existential crisis. 

They repeated the Spiel a few times. Potter's place, a dark alley and privacy charms, the kitchen counter. And they'd spent the night together and calm.each other after the inevitable nightmares. They saw each other every other day and Draco began to hope. Stupid hope stretched it's tendrils into his heart and squeezed his capillaries. Hope sipped into his smiles when he looked at Potter.

"Hey, so, Malfoy, I know you and Potter aren't exclusive, but are you really cool with me and him shagging? Because, I will stop immediately if it bothers you. I wouldn't want to risk our friendship over this, it's just sex", Nott told Draco over a pint, and it was like a bludger hitting him in the chest. He bit his tongue so hard that he tasted blood, and that was the only reason he didn't start crying in the middle if a crowded pub. When did Potter even find time to fuck other men? Did he use a time-turner? Did he squeeze it into his lunch break? Draco stared at Belial in shock. It made sense. Belial and him. They were flirting in front of him the first time they met. So why did this feel like fiendfire? Why couldn't he open his mouth and say something, anything, to Belial.  
Belial looked at Draco and had pity written all over his face.  
"Oh fuck. Draco. Shit. Are you ok? You didn't... He didn't tell you?"  
"No... I mean yes, we talked about it, I just." Draco swallowed.  
"You fell in love with him and now you're heart broken. Fuck. Draco, I didn't know. I wouldn't have touched him. You know that, right? I'm so fucking sorry, mate."  
Draco nodded and tried to smile, but it just didn't work. His face didn't obey his instructions.  
"I am knackered, Belial. I think I'll go to bed now. And don't worry, we're okay, we're mates. I just. I Need to go to bed now."  
Belial nodded. "Hey, listen, if you want to talk, just floor me, okay?  
"Sure. I will." Draco apparated home and cried into his pillow. He cried until his mouth went dry and he felt hung over and defeated. And then he pulled the blanket over his head and stayed like this. He couldn't move at all. For the first time since he had met Potter at the raid, he was petrified again.


	7. Chapter 7

There wasn't a lot of people who were allowed to call Harry at work. Mad-eye, Minerva and Belial. That was it. Oh, and Draco, but he didn't know that.

"Harry, you fucking tosser. You absolute dickhead", Belial said./>  
"Well, hello to you too, sunshine. How can I be of service?"  
"You didn't tell Draco shit about us. And I asked him about his feelings and he is absolutely devasted."  
"How's that my fault?"  
"You do realise that that man is in love with you, right?"  
"First of all, no, what a load of cheap, he just likes fucking me. Second of all, even if he were, which he isn't, I told him I don't do relationships."  
"What the fuck are you doing with Draco, then?"  
"Enjoyable activities like arse bending, what the fuck do you think we do? We sleep together."  
"As in "we fuck" or as in "we sleep next to each other and I'm oblivious to the effect it could have on precious, wonderful, baby gay Draco"?  
"The latter I guess. So, if you're so concerned for him, why don't you make him your boyfriend?"  
"I might."  
"No."  
"Why not? I thought you're just fucking."  
"Just... It would be too much drama, ok?"  
"You're an absolute arsehole and you can go fuck yourself, because I'm not going to do it for you, Potter."  
"That's cold."  
"It's called basic decency, you cunt."

Harry scratched his nose. Floor calls were exhausting.  
"Feelings are scary."  
"I thought you were, I don't know, a Gryffindor. What about just winging it? I thought that was your thing."  
"Yeah, I 'd rather face an actual dragon."  
"Just don't fuck his friends without asking him, how is that hard?"  
"Well it's not going to happen, Nott. I will self-sabotage the shit out of this, like any rational adult would. Because I'm too selfish to actually break up with him just because he is too good for me."  
"How about you stop being so shitty and work on deserving him?"  
"You obviously don't know me very well."  
"If you think I'll idly stand by while you ruin Draco, I'll show you what a protective Slytherin will do to get back at shitty exes, and I will enjoy every minute of it."  
"Yeah, good luck with that."  
"Fuck you, Potter."  
"I just might."  
Belial looked ready to strangle him through the floo, so Harry just aguamenti'd the fireplace. Nott was right of course. Harry knew he was being an absolute dipshit. But if Draco expected him to play the doting boyfriend for him, just because he was being a good lay, and cute, and had scrunched his nose in an adorable way when he was thinking, and snogged him into pillows and made his nightmares better and was absolutely ridiculously perfect for him, he was so wrong. Because Harry James Potter was not the boyfriend type. He was the rutting-against-married-blokes-in-the-hoghead's-toilet type. He was the one who you had fun with and said good-bye to after without regrets. He was the one who was in several muggles phones under "fuckboy". And if someone called him at three in the morning, he knew what to expect. "I don't need anyone. And no one needs me. And I like it like that", Harry told his owl. It hooted affectionately. He gave her an owl treat.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter has a consensual BDSM scene in it, there is a very detailed description of spanking and the inner monologue of a conflicted dom.

Draco knew he shouldn't call Potter. He knew he had to protect himself from him. But the problem with having been numb for such a long time was, that feeling good was addictive. And Potter didn't have to know how much it bothered him that he was fucking Belial. Maybe Draco could pretend to be someone who could just smile and share. But the thought of Potter's hands on Belial was torture. Did he smile at him the same way he smiled at Draco? Did he take his glasses off to give him head? Did they kiss? Of course they did, kissing was part of it. To imagine them kissing was like taking a bludger to the stomach. Did they cuddle in their sleep, did they drink out of the same cup of tea? Were they holding hands in public? Did Potter tell Belial about Draco's little habits, were they laughing about his childish crush? It was absolutely unbearable to think about. And he still wanted to call him. He could play dumb and Potter wouldn't know how pathetically jealous Draco was. Potter would let Draco touch him again, Potter would flirt and smile at him like he always did, because to him, nothing had changed. The whole storm in a teacup would go unnoticed. But Draco wouldn't hope anymore. He wouldn't get used to it, because it would end eventually with Potter leaving him. Enjoying it while it lasted was his only option. It felt like the first time he had to get to platform 9 3/4. But this time, it wasn't a magical barrier, it was just a solid, concrete wall and he was running into it head-first. Draco went to the mirror and practiced care-free facial expressions. Hi there, Potter. Everything is fine. I'm not heart-broken at all. His eyes looked pink again. Breath in. Breath out. And now, calmly to the floo, stiff upper lip. He made the call and Potter answered it immediately, no time to practice the words in his head anymore. "Hi Malfoy." "Hi, Potter. Would you like to come over here?" "Sure, love", Potter said and smiled at him with tjose bright-green eyes in full attack mode. It hurt to look at him. Draco felt something close to a hunger pang. When Potter came out of the floo and brushed his clothes off, Draco tried to look at anything but his eyes.

"I missed you, Malfoy", he said and there was broken glass in Draco's mouth when he tried to answer. Potter came closer and it felt so painfully real, his body-heat, his chipped fingernails. "Merlin, you smell so good", Potter whispered. Draco knew it had to be a lie because he smelled like work and sorrow and had forgotten to use aftershave. But it sounded like he meant it, everything Potter did felt so sincere that it hurt. How could his gut be so wrong about It? Why did it feel like romance when it was nothing but animalistic, how could he touch him like he had no skin and flesh, just his dirty, broken mind under Potter's fingertips?  
Words froze on Draco's tongue, but Potter didn't mind or notice, his fingers all over Draco, his voice whispering all the sweet nothings in his ear.  
It was probably part of it. Did he tell Belial all the same phrases, did he scratch his back? Did he kiss his nape? Draco felt how Potter opened his belt, saw him kneel in front of him with that perfect impersonation of love on his face. Then there was a swirling tongue, a warm throat and the feeling of getting sucked dry, as if all his self-preservance was sucked into Potter's mouth.  
Saint Potter, the whore, the slut, the succubus. He swallowed it all, looking as if it tasted like butterbeer instead of glue.  
Draco pulled Potter's hair.  
"Do you like swallowing cum, Potter?", Draco asked and chilled his voice down, so that it wouldn't betray him. Potter's eyes darkened. He likes the truth, Draco thought to himself. He likes when I tell him. I think I'll do that. Maybe he wants me to hurt him. I can do that, too. I would like that. I would like to smash him.against the wall. I would like to spank him and make him scream. "Yes, I like it. A lot. Do you want me to lick you clean?", Potter asked with a lingering voice. "I want to tell you what to do." "Please do. I'll do whatever you tell me to." It felt good to see Potter like this. It felt good to have an illusion of control. Draco pulled his hair and he moaned softly, leaning into Draco's hand like a kitten. "I want to hurt you." "Do what you want. Just don't kill me", Potter said and he sounded like he meant it. It was a bit scary but it filled Draco with anticipation. "Tell me no and I'll stop immediately." Potter nodded, his lips slightly opened. His cheeks were flushed and his tangled hair was damp. "Strip." Potter got rid of his robes and unbuttoned his shirt. It looked almost vulnerable, his bare chest in the pale light. When he peeled off his trousers, his cock bounced. Draco had seen his fair share of naked people, the whole Slytherin team had not been shy in the locker room. But in his whole life, he had never seen anyone as naked as Potter. It was obscene, this nakedness. Raw. Draco sat down on his sofa. "Lie down on my lap, Potter. Arse up." He walked over, slowly and elegantly, like it wasn't anything out of the ordinary. And maybe it wasn't. Maybe Potter did things like this all the time, a different man for any day of the week. Potter wiggled a bit and Draco felt his own cock getting hard again. Those round buttocks, he saw the fuzz on them. He cupped Potter's bum and jiggled it a bit, just because he could. And then he smacked him so hard that his hand started hurting. Potter helped and dug his fingers into the arm-rest. "Malfoy!", he screamed, a one-word-sentence, a whole poem of faked devotion. And Draco gave him more slaps, loud and hard and awful, filled with longing disappointment. And Potter just moaned and rubbed his hard cock on Draco, took it all. His buttocks had purple hand-marks on them. Draco spread him open and spat on the dark pucker. It elicited an other moan, an other horny wiggle. He slid his fingers in without a lubrication spell, slowly, determined to make him beg for Draco's cock. Potter whimpered. "Yes, Malfoy, oh Merlin, yes!", Potter said and tried to get more friction. "Stop moving, slut", Draco said. He liked what his voice sounded like. Untouchable. And Potter ate it up, moaned and tried not to move. "Please, please fuck me, Malfoy, I want you so bad!", he said. You don't want me, you want my cock, Draco thought. But you will get it, like you always do, you'll get what you came here for. Draco pulled his finger out and shoved Potter off his lap. And then he fucked him. Careless, probably painful. Fucked him like a rag doll, holding him by his hair. And Potter took it, screaming and holding on to Draco's arms. Draco pulled out when he felt that he was close to coming. He squirted white come on the dark bruises. He rubbed it into him. It was territorial and stupid and naive. Those bruises would let any other man know that Draco had been there. Potter hugged him and kissed him deeply. "That was so good, Malfoy. I didn't know that about you." "Know what?" "That you could be like that." Draco kissed him back. I want to own you, he thought. "Anytime, Potter", he said.


	9. Chapter 9

"You'll never find anyone like me again, you insufferable shrew!", Ron yelled.  
"Thank god!", Hermione replied, waving her wand in the general direction of her trunk. It shrunk a bit and winced.  
"Where are you even going, huh? You have nowhere to go. You're still a criminal so you don't really have a choice", Ron said, grim smugness on his face.  
Hermione grabbed her luggage and strutted toward the floo. "Harry's place!", she bellowed.

It worked. She hadn't been a hundred percent sure, he could've changed the wards after all this time of fake fighting from her side. She wondered if he just didn't bother or if he kept her in the wards for old time's sake.  
She took a look around. His flat hadn't changed much, it still was impersonal and cold. But it wasn't as cold as it used to, and there were a few touches that made it look as if someone was actually living here.

A very sleepy Harry entered the room.  
"Hi there, ' Mione", he said and yawned.  
"Who is it?", someone yelled from the bedroom. Oh no. Harry had a man over. How awkward.  
"It's Hermione."  
"Oh. I think I'll just get going, then", he said and entered the room. He was in pyjamas, which meant he was more likely a boyfriend than a hook-up, and he was also Draco Malfoy.  
"Uh, hi Granger", he mumbled and ruffled his hair. Harry thoughtlessly un-ruffled it in a very boyfriend-like manner indeed. Then he kissed Harry good-bye and walked into the fireplace.   
"Bye, Malfoy. Sorry to interrupt", Hermione said. She wanted to say that he wasn't obligated to leave, but she couldn't bring herself to do so. She needed to tell Harry what she did, for better or for worse. Malfoy vanished.  
"Harry. I need to tell you something important."  
"Sure. But have a cuppa first", Harry replied. She accompanied him to the kitchen and he boiled the kettle.   
"Listen, Harry. You probably have to arrest me if I tell you."  
"Nonsense."  
"I killed Rita Skeeter."  
"You did WHAT!"  
"I kind of... stepped on her."  
"Wow."  
"Will you arrest me?"  
"No, I will not, and I am trying very hard right now to even make a show of compassion for that liar, but I'm very shocked that you did it. I guess someone had to, but still. Do you need help? Have you gotten rid of the body? Can I do anything?"  
Hermione started crying. She was so relieved that Harry was being... Harry.  
"Harry. You sure are one hell of a friend. It was years ago. That's why Ron and I thought it would be better not to be associated with you."  
"I thought that it was my idea, to be honest."  
"Oh."  
"Not like that, Hermione. I just... did something wrong to."  
"Not like me, you didn't."  
"Exactly like you, actually."  
"What, you killed Rita Skeeter, too?", Hermione asked sarcastically.   
"I killed the Dursleys."  
"Oh Merlin! Does anyone know about that?"  
"No. And I wouldn't have told you if you weren't kind of in the same boat."  
"Sane boat indeed. Who would've thought?', Hermione mumbled and started crying again.  
"Why did you do it?", Harry asked and filled her cup with hot tea and milk, two sugars, like he always did.   
"I was having a row with Ron. Said some very nasty things. He said mean things too. And I got very angry, I was stressed. I was having nightmares every night, I was sleep deprived. And then I see that fucking bug eavesdropping, inside my own home. Ron was supposed to make the wards safe, but he was an irresponsible tosser like always and forgot. And then I just... I fixed her in animagus state and stomped on her. It wasn't even a spur-of-the-moment thing. I really wanted to kill her. I was so angry. And she was annoying. I am a terrible human being. I killed someone because they were annoying me. The Dursleys, well that's understandable after what you've been through. But I am just plain evil, Harry."  
Harry nodded.  
"Yeah, maybe. I guess. I'm glad to have you back, though. And I guess I'm just as evil. I didn't just kill the Dursleys, I tortured them and planned it all out. Maybe we could try to be better, what do you say to that?"  
"Oh Harry. Do you think we're redeemable?"  
"You might be, Hermione. What happened to Ron?"  
"I kind of dumped him just a few hours ago. I'm surprised he's not here, trying to annoy me further, actually."  
"I have intuitive wards. I don't think he would be able to."  
"Why me, Harry?"  
Harry shrugged.  
"'Because you're the sister I never had."  
Hermione started crying again. Harry patted her back.  
"Stay here, Hermione. You'll have to put up with my lovers though."  
"Yeah, Malfoy and you? Well, I am surprised but in hindsight it's obvious I guess."  
"Hermione, why did you hide? Has someone found out?"  
"Ron said it was safer."  
"But nobody knew."  
"Ron said that I brought us into this situation and I should do what he says."  
"Oh."  
"Yeah, I pretty much did what he said since then, and it got more ridiculous. He'd just use it as an excuse to use me as his slave. I was supposed to do everything, I cooked, I cleaned, I had to shag whenever he was in the mood for it, it was ridiculous."  
"Should I kill him for you?", Harry asked. Hermione started laughing nervously, but wasn't entirely sure it had been a joke. It was scary, what they had become. But it felt so good. It felt like home.


	10. Chapter 10

Draco knew it was a mistake to keep sleeping with Potter. The constant rejection festered like mold in an unwashed cauldron. But every time he tried to stay away, hours felt like days and days like weeks. He wanted to not seem desperate, not call for month, ditch a date from time to time, but he couldn't bring himself to pretend. He went out alone and tried to have a good time, he smiled and drank until his eyes hurt. And after a few sleepless nights and then returning to Potter whenever he called like he had accio'd him there, Draco came up with a plan. A petty, juvenile plan. 

"Hi Belial. Do you fancy coming over to my place for a drink tonight?", Draco asked him through the floo.  
"Sure. Good to hear from you, mate", he answered, slight relief in his voice. Draco had been a bit cold recently.

He came in through the fireplace. Draco grewted him with an unusually warm hug. Draco's apartment was decorated with candles, and it looked less frugal than Belial would've imagined it. There was a decanter with blue fairy wine, and some elegant wine goblets next to it. Draco smiled at him and made intense eye contact. Which was not normally his style. Maybe he wanted to work around the awkwardness? It was strange how attractive he looked in the dim candle light. He was as blond and slender as ever, everybody's type, probably. But Belial had always had looked at him in a brotherly way. Well, not solely in a brotherly way. But noticing his twinkish qualities under the influence of alcohol was only natural. But now it was somehow more obvious. The cat-like elegance. The hip-bones, visible under the rather tight muggle shirt he was wearing.  
Draco filled the goblets. When he reached over to give Belial his, Draco's fingertips lingered. Oh Merlin. Was...was the bugger making a move on him? Maybe he was over interpreting the situation. It felt erotic somehow. Belial was not exactly a blushing virgin. He usually flirted with everyone who stood still long enough to suffer his company. But this intimacy with a close friend felt somehow taboo and forbidden.  
"So, how have you been?", he asked, awkwardly cheery.  
Draco smiled, non-commital.

"Fine. And you?"

Belial wanted to make quipped remark, but for some strange reason, his tongue was stuck in his mouth. He coughed and took a gulp of blue wine. 

"That bad?", Draco asked lightly, and his grey eyes had a dark glimmer in them. Who was this man? Belial could handle pub-Draco. A bit reserved, a bit shy, always pretending not to have fun at all. This was different. His brother's school mate had been replaced by a distinguished spy. Polyjuice?

Draco stroke a stray hair out of his face in a very Malfoy-like gesture. So either the real Draco or a very good impersonator, then. Maybe he just behaved differently towards him because of his going with Potter. 

"I guess I am a bit tense about the whole Potter-affair", Belial admitted. Draco's eyes flickered away for a millisecond. 

"Water under the bridge. Let's get drunk on elven wine and forget about it. Maybe I can do something about that tension", Draco said and smirked. Belial was not sure, what that sentence implied, but it did definitely not alleviate any kind of tension. There was no simple way to ignore the fact that Draco was fit. And not in the usual understated way that made it easy to deal with. Fit in the I-want-to-jump-you-right-now kind of way. Bad idea. Very bad idea. Was this Draco trying to get back at Potter? And if so, did he even care? And more importantly, did he see double entendres when there were non? Draco quirked an eyebrow. Belial realized that he had just been sitting there, silently squirming and contemplating Draco's charms for about a minute. He blushed. He looked around the apartment, just to not look at Draco too closely. There was a telly on a little nightstand. 

"Wow, you have one of those muggle-thingies", he said, slightly astonished.

"Yes. Do you like movies?"

Belial had been to the cinema once and thought it was mental what those muggles did without magic. 

"Oh, definitely. I've seen one on a big screen once."

"Do you want to see one?"

"Yes, sure. What do you have?"

"What type of movies do you like? I have quite the collection", Draco said and got down on his knees to pull out a drawer with plastic books, all of the same size. His trousers stretched over his small but firm arse. Belial forgot to breathe. He choked and took another sip of wine. Then he sat down beside Draco to look at the books. Their arms touched. He could smell his perfume. My neighbour Totoro. Four weddings and and a funeral. Witches of Eastwick. 

"Witches of Eastwick? I thought these were muggle movies?", Belial asked.

"Oh, they are. And muggles have a lot of stories about witches. Wildly inaccurate, of course. Do you want to see it?"

Belial just nodded. Draco opened the book. It didn't have pages in it, just a little disc. He took the disc out and pushed a button on a black box. It started whirring and a mold for the disc appeared. 

"Muggles are so inventive", Belial remarked. They sat down on the sofa, and the movie started. It was American, and hard to listen to at first. And it was good. So good that Belial didn't even notice at first how him and Draco were suddenly so close to each other. But after he noticed, It was hard to even concentrate on the film. Draco stretched his arm lazily and it somehow ended up wrapped around his shoulder. And it felt so good to be held like that. Belial leaned his head against Draco. Merlin, the man smelled like he had bathed in amortentia. What had happened since they had last met? Where did this magnetism come from? Belial felt Draco breathing calmly. His hand was lightly massaging Belial's tense shoulder. This was definitely not their usual pub banter. This was breaching date-territory. He was getting in trouble. This would and in drama. It could only end in drama. That was the problem with being a gay wizards: the drama. The community was so small that everyone was shagging everyone. But this was Belial's mistake for even starting anything with Potter earlier on. He blurred the lines between friendship and romance. And even unwittingly betrayed his mate. Who did feel like more than that. And was so warm. And close. And oh boy, giving him little butterfly kisses on his neck, right below his earlobe. He wanted to say something about crossing lines and staying out of trouble, but all that came out was a soft moan. Then there were lips on lips, the taste of elven wine, hands pulling him closer, and a blizzard of hungry emotions that made him temporarily not listen to his inner turmoil. The voice of reason was very low. Dry, warm hands on his back. Light scratching. And with more prowess than Belial would've thought Draco possessed, he had taken off Belial's shirt and pulled down his pants. Draco sensual licking and sucking was merging with the monstrous sounds of a man transforming into a devil. Belial moaned and screamed, pulling Draco's hair and pumping into his mouth. The second he climaxed, his guilt and doubt flooded back through the dam that the wild lust had build around itself. To his own surprise, he felt tears rolling down his cheeks.

"Hey, Belial! Are you okay?" Draco asked, his voice suddenly closer to his usual tone, a bit shy. There was still white, sticky liquid in his face. It looked pretty. 

"I'm… I'm sorry!", Belial sobbed.

"About what?", Draco asked, somewhat confused.

"I don't know. For hurting our friendship?"

"Is it hurt?", Draco asked softly.

"Maybe."

Draco pinched the bridge if his nose. 

"I'm the one who should say sorry. I'm… I don't know you like this. Vulnerable."

Belial laughed bitterly. 

"I'm usually not. I'm the sarcastic bastard that jokes about shagging everyone and does that and leaves again to be alone for the rest of the week. But you're my friend."

Draco sat there silently, a bit dumbfounded. 

"I… didn't think it meant so much to you."

It hurt. It shouldn't but it did. Why did people think he was such a stone-cold bugger? Well, usually they were right, but Draco had always seemed different somehow. Safe. Maybe because he wasn't flirtatious and didn't have many friends, it had always felt profound, an honour that he decided to spend time with Belial. It made him feel like he had an inkling of what was going on behind the facade.

"Well. It doesn't have to", Belial said. His voice sounded broken. 

"Belial. I shouldn't have done that. I'm so sorry. I thought this would be fun. And maybe I wanted to see what it was like. With you and Potter. But I should've talked to you."

So that is what it was. Curiosity. Getting back at Potter. Fucking the extroverted joker friend. 

"I think I'm going to leave now", Belial said. And Draco just nodded in silent understanding. Belial didn't know what he had expected, but somehow this was worse than everything else.

Belial hurriedly dressed himself and disappeared into the floo. And he took the bottle of wine with him. Like the stone-cold bugger everyone seemed to think he was.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is written from the perspective of an emotionally abusive man.

Ron scourgified the messy table, but it wasn't of much use. His place was rotten. Since Hermione had left, everything had gone to shite. Yesterday, he had seen a sodding doxy in the curtains. Couldn't manage to catch the bugger either. He had punched several holes into the wall and didn't even bother to fix them. Actually he never had. It had been Hermione who healed his hand and reparo'd the walls, under constant nagging. She also fed Pig. Now the bird was just a constant bother, chirping at him from the dropping-encrusted cage. "You can't even wipe your own arse without a mother or wife taking care if you!", she had shouted before she packed her bags. But it was really her fault. If he wasn't so traumatised by the whole Skeeter affair, if he could've had a social life, he wouldn't be in such a state. But Hermione had to selfishly ruin his whole life and now she had left him alone, after all he had done for her. Suffered her arrogance, her sloppy, unappealing clothes, her migraines when it was time to shag. "Would you take care of me, Ron?", she'd say in this horribly meek voice. She should've been grateful. There were wizards who didn't last more than a few minutes. He could go for more than half an hour. Just because she wasn't woman enough to come from normal sex, that didn't mean that he would play childish games with her like school-girls at Hogwarts did because they didn't have a cock to satisfy them. He would sometimes rub her a bit, as a special treat. That should've been sufficient. But she started to be as frigid as she looked with those clothes that looked like she had stolen them from professor McGonagall. Honestly, would it kill her to make an effort once in a while? She could be good looking with her curves and long legs. A bit of make-up, a hair-straightening charm and she would be a real beauty. But the oh-so-intellectual Hermione was apparently above such frivolity. And now she was at Harry's place. Maybe he could give her a makeover. Weren't gays good at that sort of thing? She was probably telling tales of how everything was Ron's fault. Harry had become such a twat after the war. Couldn't take a joke, all serious. As if he was the only one who lost people to Voldemort. There was still a gaping hole in Ron's heart were Fred used to be. 

Hermione should've returned by now. It wasn't right. It was true that he had been a bit harsh with her, but she just had this infuriating energy around her, this silent superiority. It would've made anyone mad. And it wasn't as if he had ever laid a hand on her. No matter how much nagging there was, he had always hit the wall or a table, never her face. And he had never cheated on her. That had to count for something, right? Oh well. Maybe it was time to get her the flowers she so clearly needed and apologise. Ron put on his coat and got some colourful tulips from the station. Then he apparated to Harry's front door. He was still not over the fact that Potter apparently allowed Hermione into his wards but not him. And they had been best mates for such a long time! If Harry wasn't an arse-bender, he would've been jealous. He rung the doorbell and it yelled into the house that Ron was at the door in a rude, thick Liverpool accent. No one opened. Then, there were muffled voices and steps. Harry opened the door in a bathrobe. 

"Hullo Ron."

"Hi. I'm here to apologise to Hermione."

Harry looked at him with an unreadable facial expression.

"She's not here at the moment. But I can tell her you were here."

Ron felt strange. It was as if he had run into a broom store and asked for a cauldron. 

"Can I come in? Maybe wait for her? Catch up?"

Harry opened the door wordlessly.

"I take it that Hermione has told you what happened between us?"

Harry nodded and put a kettle on. 

"Listen, there's two sides to every story, right?"

"Debatable, but go ahead."

"Where is she?"

"I don't know."

"What? Why do you not know that? I thought she was staying with you!"

Harry shrugged. 

"She's a grown witch. I don't track her every move. Usually she comes home at night."

"Usually?!"

"Ron, would you unclench your arse and put those poor flowers down? You're not doing them any favours by squeezing them like that."

"I'll wait for her here if that's alright with you."

"I'm going to ask her if she wants that."

Ron felt very insulted when Harry pulled out a parchment, spelled to transfer messages. Harry scribbled something on it. Ron looked at it, but it looked like gibberish. Probably spelled to only make sense to the person it was intended to be for. 

Hey Mione, Ron is here. With flowers and half-arsed apologies. You want to see him or can I kick him in the face?

Oh. Well that is one unwelcome surprise. I'll handle this myself. Don't bother with the kicking, I'm perfectly able to hex him on my own.

But I wanna!

See you in a minute.

Draco is here.

Oh boy.

What were they still writing? Where was Hermione? This was terrible. There was a noise, and then a freshly showered Draco Malfoy entered the room.

"What the fuck, Harry? What does this death eater scum do in your apartment?"

"Me. What does it look like, honestly?"

"Hi Weasley", Draco said and helped himself to a cup of tea. "Trying to make up with Granger?"

"I do not even want to think about this. Look, I'm as tolerant as they come, but did you have to shag Malfoy of all people?"

"Then don't think about it. Nobody is making you come to my house and insult my guests."

There was a cracking noise and Hermione was in the kitchen, a bag of books on her shoulder. She looked good. Her brown hair was in a long, thick braid. Her oversized sweater and boots were as shrew-like as ever, but somehow it looked more deliberate to Ron now, after not having seen her a while. More sexy librarian, less unkempt. 

"Hermione. I'm so sorry", Ron said. "Forgive me Please!" 

He tried to make puppy eyes.

Hermione sighed.

"For what?"

"Well, I'm sorry that I hurt your feelings."

"By doing what?"

"By being way too harsh on you."

"For what?"

Ron took a deep breath. She was being deliberately annoying right now. But he came to apologise. 

"I'm sorry. I see how important the things you did were. I shouldn't have taken you for granted."

Hermione nodded. "Yes. You really shouldn't have. But I forgive you."

"I know I haven't been the most attentive boyfriend. But I'll be better from now on. I'm so glad you're coming back."

"I'm not coming back, Ron."

He looked at her, baffled.

"What? You just said you forgive me. I already apologised. What more do you want?"

"I'm sorry, Ron. I just don't want to be with you anymore."

"You think you can do better? No one knows you like I do. If you think someone else would be so much nicer, you're wrong. Everyone is messed up. Just because they seem nice at the beginning, that doesn't mean they won't be even worse in a relationship!", Ron bellowed.

Harry and Malfoy looked at Hermione, checking on her. But she stood tall.

"Well, be that as it may, I quite enjoy being single", she said smoothly.

"You're going to end up a spinster with that attitude. Or do you want to fuck around, like Harry? That might work for queers, but no straight wizard wants a slag", Ron shouted.

"Out", Hermione said. And her wand sparked menacingly. Had that been there the whole time?

He stood there, petrified.

"I said out. You don't want to make me angry, do you?", Hermione said calmly, but her eyes were scary. It reminded him of something. When had he seen her like this? It had been right before she stomped on that beetle. He nervously swallowed. 

"Bitch", he uttered under his breath. 

And then he felt a sharp pain in his stomach. He wanted to scream, but it felt like he was gargling spicy blood. He looked at Harry for help, but Harry was giggling. Ron passed out.

The last thing he heard was laughter.

When he woke up, he was in front of his apartment, soiled and gritty.


	12. Chapter 12

"You do realise there are other people you could date. People who didn't go to Hogwarts. People who are not related to anyone we know. Muggles. Veela. Anyone. People who are NOT MY EX-GIRLFRIEND!", Harry said, alternating between pacing the kitchen and banging his head against the wall. Hermione shrugged and smiled helplessly. 

"Look, Harry, you weren't supposed to even notice this. It just kind of happened."

Draco came in with some fresh buns and eggs.

"What did I miss?", he asked while trying to kick his shoes off.

"Apparently, it's impossible to find someone to shag who is not off-limits."

"Oh. Yeah, sorry about that. But you did it first."

Hermione looked lost.

"What?", she asked no-one in particular.

"I kind of dated Malfoy's best friend. Wait, what did you do?",Harry explained and then turned to Draco furiously. 

"I had sex with Belial and we're not talking at the moment", Draco said drily and put the buns on the table.

Hermione,relieved to not be the target of Harry's fury anymore, relaxed a bit.

"But Draco! Why would you do that?", Harry asked with a decidedly whiny undertone.

"Oh, that sounds nice. You've never called me by my first name before."

"Well I like it when you call me Potter. Does something to me. Whatever. So. You fucked Belial. Good for you. Yes, good. You. Uh. Was that a one time thing?", Harry asked without looking at Draco.

"Since he felt used and had feelings for me and I did not feel the same way about him and he is a sane person who notices these things, he stopped seeing me", Draco said with a defeated smile on his face. "Now back to Hermione, please."

"Traitor", she mumbled. "I was about to get popcorn."

Draco took a pan out and started to make scrambled eggs. 

"I mean, you owe me nothing, we're not boyfriends or anything", Harry said and oh Merlin, was that grown man pouting? Hermione felt that even if Harry was still mad at her, she was off the hook. 

"Look, you don't even have to see her. But I thought you got along well?", Hermione said.

"Well, yes, but she's still my ex."

"Harry, I'm sure we'll figure this out."

"Well, well, well. Put a stick up my arse and call me a broom. You're dating Ginny Weasley, aren't you?", Draco said, grinning and pointing at her with the spatula. 

"So what?", Hermione mumbled. "Dating is hard."

"Tell me about it", Draco said and nodded. 

"You two, for example. You're making breakfast on a workday, you basically live here and are very clearly doing boyfriend stuff, but somehow you're… what? Friends who shag?", she said and looked at Draco and Harry. Draco avoided everyone's gaze by smoothly putting the scrambled eggs on a big plate. 

"Breakfast, anyone?"

They all ate in awkward silence. 

"I've got to go now. To see someone", Hermione said and blushed. 

"Scoot, scoot, Granger. Go get her", Draco said and winked at her. Hermione groaned and hurried out. 

Draco scourgified the plates. Harry basically jumped him and snogged him so hard he tasted blood. "Draco", he mumbled. 

"Potter."

Harry moaned softly. Draco smacked his bum.

"I have to go to work in twenty minutes", Draco told him.

"That's still twenty minutes away", Harry said and tugged on Draco's trousers. 

"Spoiled brat", Draco said, but it was technically true. Twenty minutes were twenty minutes. 

"I still have to get dressed. Shouldn't you be at work, too?"

"I'm skipping a dull meeting on publicity protocol." Harry licked his index and middle finger an slid them into his trousers. He said a lubrication charm and started shamelessly fingering himself.

"If you do it rough and quick, you can still get to work on time", he said and smiled at Draco mischievously. 

"Insolent slut", Draco said and pulled down his pants. Then he grabbed Harry's hair and rammed into his well-prepared arse. Harry moaned and grabbed the kitchen table. Draco stopped moving until Harry was desperately moaning, hungry for friction. And then he mindlessly pumped into him, everything else a blur. Work didn't matter, nothing mattered, just the in and out and Harry's damaged voice. Draco came to work a bit late, with swollen lips and blushed cheeks. But it didn't really matter because the store was still closed. And that was odd, because his boss was supposed to open today, and he was not usually late. Draco shrugged and got into the shop to make it ready for business. An owl came in after him and hooted. It gave him a letter.

Mr. Malfoy,

I have been summoned to an inquiry about our merchandise by the ministry of magic. I trust that you keep the business running in my absence. I expect to return to a clean shop, anything that doesn't entice our esteemed and proper customers should be cleaned up immediately. 

Best regards,

B. Burke 

Well that was about as subtle as a house-elve's fashion sense. But how was he supposed to get rid of so many dark items? And just yesterday, a new one had arrived. Draco didn't even know what it was. But it sure smelled like something dark and strong.

Draco went into the cellar and looked at the object. It was wrapped into a black piece of cloth. It moved. That startled Draco a bit, but it wasn't anything that much out of the ordinary. But then, it sneezed. And even though that wasn't that uncommon for old, charmed objects, something about that sneeze sounded decidedly less like an object and more like a subject. Draco put on his dragon-hide gloves and took off the black cloth. Under it, there was a big, round globe and in that globe a tiny creature that Draco had read about, but never seen. To his knowledge, fae draconis had gone extinct seventy years ago. But this one looked alive. And very, very angry.


	13. Ginny and Hermione

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is a femslash chapter.  
> Enjoy.

Ginny, Ginny, Ginny, Ginny... It was really interesting how the witch had gone from being an occasional shower-thought to being so very important. When had it really begun, that attraction, Hermione wondered. Back when they slept in the same room in the burrow and she heard those soft noises one night? She had opened her eyes just a little bit, but it was enough to see Ginny's pale skin and how she was writhing in the moonlight, probably thinking of Harry. And Hermione had felt like an intruder. But really, it had been hard to look away. Back then, Ginny was still flipping the bird at school-bullies and buzzing with energy, throwing bat-bogey-hexes left and right. Now she was a Quidditch-star and a bit more calm when off the broom. When she walked into the cafe, fashionably late and hair artfully tousled despite the crisp side-cut, Hermione's breath hitched. She was wearing a rough leather jacket and boots and she looked like she had just jumped out of one of her fan's magazines. There were always screaming teenage girls swooning when there was a match, and sometimes they even snuck onto the training pit. She grinned at Hermione and before she could fret over the appropriate way of greeting the other witch, she kissed her softly on the lips. Hermione's knees felt decidedly wobbly now. "Hi", she said breathlessly. Ginny sat down.  
"Wow, Hermione. Are you deliberately dressing like that to drive me crazy?", Ginny muttered. Hermione blushed. Because, yes, she was deliberately dressing like that to drive her crazy. And it wasn't especially hard to dress like that. Ginny had told her about having a thing for the stereotypical library-lesbian-look and well, that was basically all of Hermione's wardrobe anyway. The things that Ron liked to see her in were the exception to that rule and she always felt a bit as if she were playing dress-up in those. So, if she wanted to look her absolute best for Ginny, which she absolutely did, she just put on her favourite clothes and felt sexy in them. Never underestimate the power of attitude. And nice short fingernails. Instead of answering, she just smiled. "Wow, you fucking tease, you absolutely know! I'm shocked!", Ginny lamented in mock terror. Hermione grinned. "I'm also wearing a very conservative skirt that is riding up under the table", she said and squeezed Ginny's knee.

Ginny growled lowly. "I thought we wanted to have coffee and a proper date and such nonsense. I'm going to shag you in a stall in the loo if you keep going like this."  
Hermione smirked. "Look, Ginny. I know who you are and I've known for a while. We talked about all the first date stuff already anyway. And as much as I enjoy our talks, I have to admit that there are other wonderful things that I would enjoy doing with you that include less talking and a few notice-me-not-charms and muffliatos", she said and pinched Ginny's thigh. Hermione looked at the short hair above Ginny's left ear and remembered longingly how good it felt against her skin. The last time she couldn't help but stroke it while Ginny was driving her mad with that wicked tongue of hers.

When Hermione looked into Ginny's eyes, they had a slightly dazed expression. She bit her lip and whimpered lowly. It was interesting to Hermione, what that expression did to her. With Ron, she had been a bit more submissive, careful to not hurt his fragile ego. It backfired most of the time, but whenever she was a bit more self-confident, Ron would whine about her being bossy. With Ginny, she didn't feel like toning it down in the slightest. But Ginny was just as dominant as her, which, the last time, had ended in a delightful play-fight. There was biting and scratching and even some choking involved. After putting up a good fight, eventually Ginny melted into Hermione's pulling and pushing, still clawing at her back, but mewling in a desperately horny, slightly defeated way. When she had started to kiss her way down to Hermione's wet cunt, Hermione realised that she had not been on the receiving end of oral sex since she had dated Viktor back in fifth year. And oh, had she missed it. But that wasn't the only reason she screamed like a Banshee on fire. It was just so right- Ginny felt right. Her tongue was so smooth, her sucking so devoted- the enthusiasm with which she moaned into her and burried her head between her legs.

The waiter came to their table and cleared his throat. He blushed a bit. Poor man.  
"Uh. Hi. Would you like a menu?", he said and looked at his own hands.  
Ginny ordered a coffee in a somewhat strained voice, because Hermione was still kneading her leg under the table. "A pumpkin spice latte for me, please", Hermione said. The waiter took the order and stumbled back to the kitchen, holding his notebook in front of his crotch discreetly.  
"Hm. Pumpkin Juice. Brings me back to Hogwarts", Ginny said dreamily. Hermione laiughed. "I ordered pumpkin spice latte, that is decidedly not the same. It is very muggle, american even, if I remember correctly."  
"Spoilsport", Ginny muttered. "What did I do?", Hermione said, genuinly puzzled. "Oh, it just brought me back to when we were still at Hogwarts and Harry was clumsy and spilled that juice all over you... Ok you probably do not remember that as vividly as I do." Hermione arched her eyebrows. "Weren't you with Harry back then?" Ginny chuckled. "First of all, I was a horny teenager and second of all, Harry is gay and I was already very much bi back then", Ginny said. "And that face you made... and you were clearly not wearing a bra." Hermione gave Ginny a wicked smile. "I rarely do. And if so, more for, well. Embellishment. Not for practical reasons. Not with those wee tits", she said and shook her upper body playfully. There was not a lot of jiggling. Ginny still made a little choked noise. "On second thought I still feel like a horny teenager sometimes", she whispered.  
"Want to down our coffee, apparate back to your place and see if we still fit into our Hogwarts-uniform?", Hermione asked and wiggled her eyebrows suggesitvely. "Yes please!", Ginny croaked. "I was joking but I guess we could actually do it", Hermione said. The waiter came back with their beverages. He seemed a bit more calm now. Hermione gave him an apologetic grin. He turned beet red again and left for the kitchen. "Maybe we should tone it down, that poor man looked like he had trouble breathing", Hermione mentioned. Ginny shrugged and gulped her coffee down with an impressive speed. "He's fit, he can join us", she said. Hermione did not like that thought much. Yeah, it was kind of hot but she wasn't really ready to share Ginny with anyone. Oh no. They should probably talk. Have The Talk. Relationship talk. Or they could not. And then probably end up like Harry and Malfoy. That would be awful. She staightened up. Time to Gryffindor this situation into clarity. She sighed. Ginny looked at her in worried way. "Hey, luv. Is there something wrong?" Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content notification for drug use

"Granger. Do you need a cup of tea, or a hug or something?", Draco asked the puddle of a witch in the kitchen. 

"A hug would be great, actually, ta."

Draco was surprised, actually. He didn't think he'd be taken up on the offer. There weren't a lot of people who'd enjoy getting hugged by him, or so he thought.

But he gave her a gentle hug nonetheless. She sobbed.

"What happened? Did the date go badly?"

She wiped her red nose on her sleeve in a very unladylike manner.

"I don't know. We talked about us and now I feel awful."

Draco patted her back awkwardly.

"She doesn't feel the same way as you?"

Asking questions was what you did when you tried to console a girl, right?

Hermione shrugged, looking a bit defeated. 

"I'm not even sure. She just said that she needs time to think about it."

Draco nodded.

"And that's bad?"

He didn't know if that was bad, honestly. Sounded like they were communicating and it wasn't really that terrible. It wasn't a no.

"Yes, yes that's very bad! Now I have to wait until she tells me what she thinks and in the meantime I have to wonder about it and that's awful, gruesome, terrible! Imagine what torture that Is!", she screeched.

"Uhm. Well I don't have to imagine much in that regard, I'm in the same boat. Yeah, I guess I understand.", Draco replied drily. Hermione began to pace.

"No, you and Harry are different. You are open and such. You're even okay with sleeping with each other's friends and it's not that dramatic, right? I want Ginny as my girlfriend. So much. Ugh. I hate how much I want things. I always forget. But then I actually want something and I'm obsessed with it. No moderation."

Draco stood there, somewhat impressed by the raw power of Hermione's emotions. As a pureblood heir, he had been trained so mercilessly to hide his emotions. This avalanche over a benign thing was something he had never witnessed before. He felt like that, storm in a teacup and whatnot. But he never saw anyone feeling so strongly about something that wasn't life or death.

"Isn't that kind of… great?", he wondered aloud. "Feeling things and letting other people know about that, I mean. I might be biased, though. I just felt numb for a long time, before I met Harry again."

Hermione looked at him incredulously.

"That's so sweet I think I'm going to barf."

"No I mean I was low-key screaming at him because he was infuriating."

Hermione laughed.

"Yeah ok I see how that could happen. No, living with Ron the last few years was just… lots of red hot feelings. A bit all over the place. I liked how quiet it was around me lately."

"I actually quite like how it is to spend so much time with you and Harry. Makes me feel young."

Hermione snorted.

"I mean. We kind of are young. You're what? Twenty-three? Twenty-four?"

"Twenty three."

"It's fucked up how we all had such an awful childhood. We all basically were child-soldiers. We should be allowed to just hang out for a while, actually.", Hermione said and laughed. Her face was still blotchy, but her mood seemed lighter. 

"I think that's probably what makes this so - well, honestly, I am a bit jealous of you being able to express emotions and such.", Draco admitted.

Hermione stopped walking around and looked at Draco with a slightly fanatic glimmer in her eye.

"You know what we should do? We should go out. Just you and me. No romantic fuckery. Just dancing and maybe drinking and such."

Draco was about to argue. But then he thought if Harry. And Belial. And how everything just went tits up when you thought about it too much. Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy, going out together. It sounded so funny. If someone saw them, they'd be so confused.

"I'm in. Let's get the cheap fire whiskey from the lowest shelf. May I offer you my arm, Lady Granger?", he said and bowed slightly. 

"Why yes, sir Malfoy, it would be an absolute delight", Granger replied and took his arm. 

"Wait. We should dress up", Draco said. The whole thing was starting to be really fun. And silly. When was the last time he did something silly? Probably with Belial. Ugh. Better not to think about it. 

"Very good idea, sir", Granger said in a fake posh accent.

"I think I don't even have anything nice to wear, now that I think about it", Draco said. And he honestly had nothing but boring black robes. 

"Yeah. I think we should do something about our wardrobes. Mine needs an update, too. Come on, let's splurge. You're invited. I want to spend some of that war-hero money", Granger said and manoeuvred him towards a better apparition point. 

"I couldn't…", Draco tried to say, but Granger shushed him and side-along'd him to Diagon alley.

A few new shops that sold fashionable clothes for young witches and wizards had opened in the years after the war. They randomly walked into "Yang's", a shop that was decorated with shabby looking wooden plank-like thingies. It was a strange mixture of muggle and wizard fashion. Draco quite liked it. Granger picked a few robes out for him. Things he wouldn't have tried on, but which were interesting enough. A long-sleeved tunic like robe with a tree on it's back, a raw silk shirt, dark blue with embroidery. Bold. A bit… well. Gayer than he was used to. 

Draco stood behind a flowy curtain and tried things on that Granger threw his way. 

"This is so nice! I love dressing up!", Granger said.

"Really? Didn't think you were the type."

"Well I'm not. Not so much. Okay mainly I just don't like that everyone is all ooh-ing and ahh-ing if I put on feminine stuff and straighten my hair", she replied while putting on leather boots and wizard's robes. 

She looked really nice, actually. 

"Wow Draco. Colour suits you. I mean obviously you look good in black and all. It's just.. I don't know. It makes you look more Draco-y."

It was Draco now. That was nice. And she was right. It did look more Draco-y.

"Likewise. Wizard robes suit you", he replied earnestly.

Hermione smirked. "Really? Ron always said I looked awful in them", she said.

"Wow. That tosser. The audacity. Him. Talking about style. To you!"

Draco was righteously angry at that git. If Hermione wasn't perfectly able to do it on her own, he would've given him a visit.

"You know what I always wanted to do?", she said with a slightly dreamy expression on her face. Draco shook his head. 

"Cut my hair", she said triumphantly.

"Well let's go then!", Draco exclaimed.

Laden with bags from Yang's, they found a barber right around the corner. The wizard with the hot pink hair recognised Hermione and made a huge fuzz, took a photograph of her and begged her for a before and after shoot. Hermione just grinned and nodded, even though she told Draco that she usually hated having a picture taken. 

Short hair on Hermione looked menacing. The power basically sparked from her eyes. The hairdresser dawned over her and took a million pictures. Hermione was laughing. Then they appeared back to Harry's and put on their new clothes. Draco was giggling. He didn't know if he had ever, in his whole life, giggled. When they went to town and into a muggle club, all the eyes were on them. It was pretty inside, there were fairy lights and comfortable carpets. On the ceiling there were fluorescent paintings of abstract flowery shapes. Most muggles were wearing floaty clothes and looked a bit dazed. There was a strange herbal smell. Hermione sat down on a pillow on the floor and started talking with a girl who started to draw fake tattoos on her. She resembled Luna Love good a bit, but her skin was brown and her hair blue. Draco sat down next to them and the girl started painting on him, too. When she reached the spot on his arm where the dark mark used to be, Draco shivered. The skin there always felt vulnerable, a strange feeling, like someone touching your navel for too long. But when a three-eyed cat and a pyramid appeared on his arm, it was a nice feeling. Freeing. Hermione stood up and asked Draco to join her and the artist on the dance floor. There was loud, thumping music, a bit repetitive, but Draco did not mind. A man with a top hat and goggles offered him a sugar cube. He had a very expressive face. Draco looked at Hermione. She shrugged.

"I do have a bezoar with me, so if you space out too much, I can always bring you back!", she shouted into his ear. The blue haired girl was stroking Hermione's head. She got a little closer. "I'm flattered but no, thank you", Hermione told the girl with an affectionate grin and a kiss on the forehead. The girl smiled, but started to talk to someone else soon. Draco thanked the man in in the top hat. He waved at him and danced away. Draco broke the cube in half. "Care to join me?", he asked Hermione. She nodded. "But let's go somewhere quiet first!", she yelled into his ear. She went into a dark corner, cast a notice-me-not and apparated them to the coast. It was so quiet that Draco heard the thumping beat if his heart in his ears, and a high tingling sound. "Episkey!" Hermione said and pointed at his and her own ears. The high pitched tone went away. He could clearly hear the birds and the waves now. They both took half the sugar cube into their mouths. 

"I don't feel anything", Draco said.

"Me neither", Hermione replied.

They silently walked on the shore, watching the waves and the stars. 

"I think the stars look a bit brighter to me than they did a few minutes ago", Hermione observed.

Draco stared into the sky. 

"They look like soup", he said.

"What do you mean?", she asked.

"You know, liquid. Like, if I move my hand like this, I could probably make them move", Draco answered and moved his hand in a wavy motion.

"Woahhh! It's like magic!", Hermione said and started to laugh hysterically. 

"Like you, you're an actual wizard, but, but Draco, you can move the stars! And you're like, a star! Multiple stars! A whole formation!", she said and waved her arms around. Her arms were really long and thin. Like ribbons. "You're long, Hermione. A long friend. I'm glad you're my friend", Draco said and started laughing too. 

They wandered around, the sand felt wet under their feet, even in shoes, and their teeth felt liquid, too. They talked a lot about how liquid things are very important in potions. 

"Have we moved? I feel we're still in the same place, but it must have been a few hours now", Draco said. "Yes, we've been standing here for a long time", Hermione replied. 

"Do you remember when I said that it's hard to express feelings? I don't think it's hard right now."

"What are you feeling, Draco?"

"Nobody ever asks me that."

"I just did."

"True."

"Well what are you feeling?"

"Just a bit odd. Like I want to cry. But also laugh."

"Just do it if you want to."

"You won't judge?"

"No, why would I?"

"It's what people usually do."

"I give you a ten out if ten."

"What?"

"My judgement is you won."

"Ok."

"What are you feeling?"

"I always think of Harry. All the time. Even when I'm doing something that has shit all to do with him."

"It's because you love him so much."

"Yes."

"Did you ever tell him that?"

"No. I can't."

"Why not?"

"He'd leave me."

"Why?"

"Because… because that's what people do when you show them that you're vulnerable. They leave you. You lose."

"But what do you lose?", Hermione said with a confused look on her face. 

"My dignity."

"Because you love someone?"

"Yes. Too much. It's shameful."

Hermione started crying.

"Hermione! Are you okay? What's going on?"

"It's just so sad. That you think that. That loving someone too much is bad."

Draco looked at her, a bit puzzled.

"But that's how it is."

"No. No, no, no. It's not. Draco. Loving someone is good! It's the best thing in the world. Even if they don't love you back, loving them is brave and kind and good."

"Why doesn't Harry love me, then?"

"I thought he did."

"But he doesn't."

"Then why are you still sleeping with him?"

"So I can be close to him."

"Have you asked him if he loves you?"

Draco fell silent.

"No but that's obvious. Nobody loves me."

"I'm your friend, Draco", Hermione said. She paused and started grinning again.

"That means I love you!"

Draco looked at her and laughed. He laughed because it was true.

"I love you too, Hermione. And I think I don't feel anything negative at all because of that. It doesn't feel like losing at all."

"Draco?"

"Yes?"

"I'm high as a kite."

"Me too."

Draco sat down. Hermione sat down next to him and they stared at the stars again.

"Why doesn't Ginny love me back?", Hermione asked, in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Are you sure she doesn't?"

"Well why wouldn't she say so?"

"Maybe she's afraid of losing. Maybe she hasn't tried eating muggle drugs."

"You don't have to eat muggle drugs to be honest about love."

"Yeah, but it helps."

"It does, doesn't It?"

"I think I'm less high now."

"Yeah. Me too. I'm cold."

"Should we go back home?"

"To Harry's? Think he'll be home?"

"Oh no we can't go to Harry's. I'm still too high to speak to him. We can go to mine. Oh, no we can't. I have a fae draconis in my flat."

Hermione sat up abruptly.

"You have a what now."

"A fae. A real fae. I don't know what to do with her. I've invited my nanny for Monday, so she can talk to them."

"Your nanny?"

"Yeah. Imnitia. She's a house elf."

"Oh. Ok. I mean that sounds like we should go to your place, take a bit if bezoar powder in a glass of water and figure out what the fuck is going on."

"Yeah. Probably."

"We probably should not apparate high. We could splinch."

"Yeah."

"Think we can just slice a bit of the bezoar off with a transfigured knife?"

"Sure."

Hermione transformed a shell into a very shabby knife and a stone into a clunky cup. Then she cast aguamenti and shaved a bit of the bezoar into it. They both drank silently. 

  
  
  
  
  
  
  



	15. Chapter 15

Swinny looked up at the night sky. The Centaur. The human. The night elf. The merperson. So many ways to read the stars.

Elf magic was undetectable. And that meant it really did not leave traces. Everything was still there, in plain sight- but people just happened to not think about it. Wizard magic was clumsy. If they erased a memory, it was gone. They were bludgeoning around in people’s heads, hacking and whacking, like they did with the earth, with their children, with their homes. If there was a hole, it was detectable. Even if you put a false memory there instead of a real one, it was obvious. But elves were subtle. A good elf was not to be seen or heard or even thought of too frequently. And since wizards were only listening to the very loudest of voices, only noticed their own banging and sparking and rudeness, they failed to notice things that were so big, so fundamental. But silent. Like the stars.

You couldn’t help but like their young, if they listened to you once in a while. It didn’t take much, but if they looked closely enough, they could sometimes see what was right in front of them. 

The wizards had forgotten about most of the old magic they had. They had books about Merlin and Morgana, sure. But they were so busy, busy, busy, writing up laws and putting their loud things on paper and talking over each other that they failed to notice that things were gone. Big things. Camelot, that was easy. Avalon, Atlantis, that had taken some time. Most humans thought of those places as stories, nothing they could look for or visit. One family, the Lovegoods, they had come so close to old things that other, louder humans forgot about them, too. Humans don’t like to be forgotten and they kept making noises and tried to put old things on paper. Their reputation among their own kind was in the gutter.

There were different ways to make humans forget about you. One was to make them think of you as inferior. It was so easy that most non-humans were forgotten about, even if they explicitly did not want humans to forget them. Humans liked to have someone they thought of as less important than them, and if they couldn’t find an other species to feel superior to, they did it among each other.

And that, ultimately, made them so robbable. House elves, they called people like Swinny. And they weren’t wrong. Because house elves were the ones who took the houses. And then the cities. Swinny could talk so many languages that she sometimes mixed them up. But among humans, if you spoke their words differently, they thought of you as dumb. No matter how obvious your skills were. 

And when the time was right, and their attention was elsewhere, you could take their big, magical things. Their houses and chalices and oaks and stone circles. And then you could make them elven.

The corridors of Swinny’s home, former “Malfoy Manor”, were alight with glowing fern. It smelled of herbs and good, earthy magic.

Swinny thought of the wizard she had raised, who had once traipsed along those floors. A boy that had also been very loud, but oh, at times, he would really listen. Why was she thinking of humans? Why of him? Something was tugging at her long, big ears, telling her to listen more closely. Draco was in trouble, in serious magical trouble, trouble so big that magic itself had whispered it into Swinny’s ear. Usually, Draco wouldn’t think of Swinny. His thoughts would just bounce off her, back to whatever else was louder. But now, she felt that pull.

She sighed and magicked herself to him, through the stars.


End file.
